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As he fucks me with the toy, he praises me. “Fucking beautiful. So fucking sexy. So fucking mine.”
That last word thrums through me, lighting me up everywhere. Pleasure coils in me, tighter, then I burst, grabbing the sheets as I shatter.
When I come down, he eases out the toy, turns it off, and tosses it on the covers.
I push up on my elbows, greedy for him to return the favor. “Show me how you got off to me.”
“I fucking will, baby.” Like he’s never wanted anything more in his life, he shoves down his shorts. He slides a hand between my thighs and slicks up his fingers with my orgasm. Gripping his hard shaft, he coats his length with my arousal.
His fist is shuttling his cock, his jaw tensing, and he’s so incredibly sexy like this. “Fuck, baby, I need to feel you. I need to feel you gripping me. Let me fuck you,” he says.
“Please fuck me,” I answer. His shorts vanish and he’s climbing over me, guiding his eager dick inside me. Then hooking my legs over his shoulders. I can’t move like this, and I don’t even want to as he sinks into me.
“Oh god, it’s better,” I say.
His grin is savage. “Yesss.”
He can barely speak. He just fucks me hard and deep. His grunts are long and feral. He takes me urgently, a man needing his woman. But he has other needs too.
Mine.
Even though I came already, he’s got that determined look in his eyes. The one that says his woman comes first and second.
He maneuvers a hand between us, stroking my swollen clit and driving me wild till I’m begging for him harder and deeper. And he gives me everything I need till I shatter again. He’s right there with me, breaking apart on a loud, passionate grunt.
Then collapsing onto me.
Kissing my collarbone. My jawline. My cheek. Sighing against me, a man content. “Gonna call me Maestro now?”
I laugh. “Maybe I will…Maestro.”
He smiles against my neck. “Mmm. That was the best surprise.”
“I’m glad you liked it,” I say.
“I like everything with you, Elodie,” he says, his voice rough with sex, but then soft, too, when he repeats one word: “Everything.”
I don’t think he’s just talking about the sex. I’m not either when I say, “Me too.”
Fifteen minutes later, we’re good boys and girls, dressed and ready to head to work. On the way out, his phone buzzes. “Grams,” he says, then clicks open a text. After a few seconds, he rolls his eyes. “It’s Sebastian.”
I tense, fear gripping me. “What is it now? Did he tell Felix? Did he smear us on social? Did he say we lied about being fake engaged?—”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to freak you out. No, he just started this new campaign. He hired a bunch of pretty women to eat chocolate seductively.”
I grimace. “He is the worst.” But then, he hardly matters. “He can do whatever he wants. My chocolate is five million times better, and he’ll never get my recipes.”
“Damn straight your chocolate is better. Also his views suck,” Gage says.
“Karma,” I say, and karma is this too. “And I’m paying off the loan on Friday.”
“Congratulations.” He picks me up and spins me around. “I always believed in you.”
And the thing is, he did.
When he sets me down, his green eyes sparkle with mischief. “Enjoy work today,” he says, and there’s a secret in his voice.
“What’s that for?”
